


Family Don't End In Blood

by Sweet_Brownies



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Dimension Travel, Gen, Magic, This is a re-write, around that time for the winchester, dick pretends its not, i cant belive I cant find a fic like this, just a proper dimention hoping supernatural/batfam fic, kindof, spells, the batfamily is a little broken, the winchesters help him fix it tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Brownies/pseuds/Sweet_Brownies
Summary: “That, back there… that was Nightwing. Like, the real friggen thing.” Dean put the book on the table, bringing the chair down with a thud. “Oh my God, I told Nightwing to up his cosplaying game.”Sam scoffed. “Yeah, you did.”Or, Dick encounters two brothers in the wrong world and yearns for a family relationship like theirs. Maybe it's not as impossible as it seems.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 64
Kudos: 274





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As a btw, i do make wincest jokes, but in the same manner the show does. I just think its funny.
> 
> Also, This is a rewrite to a similar story, the title's the same. Just, the more I came up with the plot, the harder I found it to work with what I had already written, so I'm just starting again
> 
> If the beginning seems familiar, its almost exactly the same as the other fic. It's after the first scene that everything changes.

It was raining. Because of course it was raining. Sam could feel the water start to soak through his layers as he held his gun close to his head, thick drops falling from the leaves above them and running down his head in an awfully cold sensation. Dean was pressed up next to him, back against the trunk of the giant tree they found as a temporary shelter. Sam's heart was pounding from the chase, but the press of Dean helped, if only a little.

"You know what would be good right now?" Dean held his face in a tight pinch as he looked around the tree, position mimicking Sam's. "A hamburger. Or pie. I think I'd really like some pie right now."

"Dean," Sam growled. The feeling of _Dean you're an idiot_ and _stop touching me_ washed over him immediately. "Is now the time?"

"Just saying," He said. He took another glance. "Where'd she go?"

They'd been hiding behind the tree for a total of five minutes-- five minutes too long, considering they had previously been being chased by a witch. It was a job in Jersey, and despite the utter lack of information they had found the witch and started a chase. The witch had gotten the upper hand, on their heels only moments before.

But the forest seemed to be empty now.

Sam and Dean rounded the tree, guns held up and steady. "Couldn't this be simple for once?" Dean groaned.

"Since when is it ever simple for us?" Sam scoffed. He could see the path of broken branches and disturbed dirt from where they had come running, but there was no sign of where the witch had left.

"Sam," Dean said. He jutted his chin at a tree to their right, where there was a slight brush of fresh blood. Right, Dean had grazed her with a bullet. Dean started to approach quietly, Sam followed suit, only hearing the sound of wet leaves and rainfall no matter how Sam strained his ears. Sam heard a slight rustle and motioned Dean to stop, debating if it were a real concern or just an animal.

"Screw..." Sam turned around to see the witch emerge from a tree behind them the same time Dean did. Her blond hair was wild and dirty, her eyes promised murder. "...you!"

Too late they noticed the blood drawn symbol on the tree behind her. Sam wasn't sure what had happened, only that it glowed, there was an incantation in the background, and then it was too bright for him to see.

.

Dick hated the slight skip his heart gave when his communicator suddenly let out a steady sound of high-pitched beeps, the earpiece repeating his father’s identification number. It was an unusually clear night in Blüdhaven, comparative to the rest of the rainy, sticky, hot week, and despite the light that lit in his chest at getting the chance to talk to his father, something gross curled at the bottom of his stomach.

“Nightwing,” he answered, bringing two fingers up to the comm. “What’s up?”

The answering voice was deep, almost like a rumble. “Nightwing,” Batman greeted. “There’s been an energy surge in Blüdhaven that I need you to look into.”

Months of radio silence, and the first call he gets is about the mission— which, Dick wasn’t surprised. It’s always about the mission. In a small way, he’s glad Bruce is talking to him about something at all-- asking for help, even-- and he knows Bruce is busy and doesn’t have the time to chat. They have the mission, and that’s enough. It’s always been enough.

“Of course,” his voice wavers, and he isn’t sure why. “Location?”

Dick was on his bike before Bruce even finished the address, his speed inching higher without his noticing. The location turned out to be an alley, crowding brick walls and heaps of trash. As far as Nightwing could tell, there was nothing special about it.

“Aw, fuck.”

Nightwing jumped at the unexpected voice, if only a little. There was a groan that followed. Nightwing wasn’t sure where precisely the voice originated from until he saw a vague movement from one of the black garbage bags.

“Sam?” Nightwing heard, and suddenly there was someone throwing a trash bag off themselves, light haired and wearing a plaid button down. The man looked down at himself and picked something off his shoulder with a look of disgust. “Sammy?”

“Sir?” Nightwing said softly, trying not to startle him. To no use, the stranger’s eyes jumped to him and he immediately pulled out a gun in a way that told Nightwing he was no stranger to using one. Nightwing held up his arm in a sign of truce, talking a careful step back. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Who the hell are you?”

“Nightwing,” He answered. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m a friend. Please, put the gun down.”

Another man ran across the entrance to the alleyway, the name “Dean?!” called from his lips. The man in front of Nightwing answered with a, “Sam!” that was hard, and Nightwing knew the tone of voice, the one that screamed _caution_ and _danger_ without saying anything. Sure enough, Sam— tall, dark hair, and another plaid shirt-- came into the alley with his gun already raised.

“Dean?” Sam said again, eyes never leaving Nightwing once.

Nightwing’s hair was on end, and he slowly moved so his back was facing the wall rather than the giant, trying his best to figure out how to defuse the situation. They were fighters, that much was obvious. Street style rather than professional, if their stances said anything, though basing off his brother Jason that didn’t help Nightwing know if he would win this fight or not. Their quick glances at each other told Nightwing they were good partners, probably have been working with each other for years.

“I’m not here to fight,” Nightwing said, and some part of him itched to reach for the weapons strapped to his back, but he kept his hands in front of him, palms out. “I just came to see what was wrong. There was a high spike of energy, and I want to make sure it wasn’t anything dangerous. Were you here for that? Have you noticed anything change?”

They didn’t answer the question, instead giving each other another glance. Slowly, Sam put his gun away, shaking his head. “We just got here, sorry. We didn’t notice anything.”

Dean was glaring daggers into Sam’s brain, but Sam just gave him an exasperated look of _come on_ and Dean was huffing and putting his own gun away, getting out of the garbage bags and joining his partner. Sam wrinkled his nose.

“Dude,” he said, as they both turned around and exited the alley, “You reek.”

“Yeah, like you smell like fucking roses.”

Nightwing knew they were trying to play casual, a little too obviously, but he played along, relaxing his stance and loosening his shoulders. He jogged up to them slowly—really, really slowly because even though he could handle it, gunpoint was not something he liked being at the end of—and called out, “Wait!”

He reached out for Dean’s sleeve, holding it loosely so the other man could pull away if he tried. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything? It would be helpful. Anything?”

Dean huffed, pulling his arm away and snorting, “Yeah, we’re sure. And, uh, next time you put that much effort into a cosplay, at least get it right.”

“Excuse me?”

They continued to walk, heads held low and paces brisk. Nightwing looked down at his outfit—the blue V across his chest and the stripes down his arms. Unless Dean’s counting the original suit with yellow, this is the only Nightwing suit he’s ever worn? It’s as accurate as it can get.

He walked to the next alley over and pulled out his bike, straddling it before starting a call. It answered on the third ring, like it always does, a computerized voice saying, “ _Calling so soon? And here I thought I’d get a day without you_.”

“Hey, O,” Dick replied, a smile growing on his face. They weren’t together, not anymore, but her voice still pulled at his heartstrings. “Hope I’m not a bother. You plan on going to sleep any time soon?”

_“Nope. Tonight I’m going to have to pull a Red Robin. Why, what’s on your mind?”_

“Nothing. I just wanted you to keep an eye on a tracker I just activated, notify me if he goes anywhere suspicious so I can get a couple hours of sleep.”

_“Sure. Who is it?”_

“Don’t know. Dean’s his first name, I’m assuming.” Even though he knew Oracle couldn’t see it, Dick found himself shrugging. Then again, with the way Oracle had Gotham and the ’Haven bugged, she might. “He has a partner, Sam, but I didn’t get a tracker on him.”

_“I’m on it. Call you in the morning.”_

“Night, O.”

Nightwing hung up, starting his bike and heading home. It wasn’t the best, though Clancy did her best at keeping the apartment from falling apart, but Nightwing appreciated the space nonetheless. He probably should’ve put the suit back into the hidden closet, but leaving it on the floor was easier. Plus, knowing Blüdhaven, he’d use it again in a couple hours.

Dick woke up with a start, feeling disoriented and out of place. His clock blared its high-pitched _beep_ with the glaring red letters displaying 8:00 A.M. Four hours of sleep was pretty good, if Dick were to say so himself, and a quick check on his phone showed a message from Babs telling him that Sam and Dean had booked a room at the Blue Pine motel. Nothing suspicious.

The morning consisted of trailing them, his hair covered by a blond wig, brown contacts and a little make up. Dick enjoyed dressing up—seeing how far a little bit of effort can change your appearance was always fun. Sam and Dean themselves, though, were boring as hell, because who the heck wakes up and goes to a library first thing in the morning? Them, apparently.

Old worn books leaked a certain smell into the air, and the tables were drawn on and worn down. In other words, just another Blüdhaven library. The two strangers (read: Sam) had been looking at books at the far end of the seating area, an impressive collection starting to gather on the floor as the hours passed by. Dick himself sat near the entrance with a cup of coffee and his laptop, headphones plugged in so he could listen to their conversation through the bug he had planted on the bookshelf near them upon entering that morning.

Dean sat with a book on his chest, balancing the chair he was in on its back legs. “So, what’re you getting at?”

“I think it’s the real deal, Dean,” Sam answered without looking up from his book. “Justice League’s been operating for half a decade, sightings of Batman have been going on for double that time, even villains like the Joker and Lex Luthor are known. It’s all like it’s straight out of a comic book.”

“So we’re in Blüdhaven.”

Sam gave him an off look. “I think so, why?”

“That, back there… that was Nightwing. Like, the real friggen thing.” Dean put the book on the table, bringing the chair down with a thud. Dick leaned closer to his screen where he watched them through the security footage, amused by the horror that crossed Dean’s face. “Oh my God, I told Nightwing to up his cosplaying game.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, you did.”

“Okay, Okay—” Dean leaned forward, pointing a finger at Sam. “So, he was there for us, right? There’s no way he came to check out an energy ding that was totally unrelated to us landing here.”

“So?”

“So we contact him.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, we can’t just walk up to the GCPD and light up the Batsignal.”

“Oh, God. There’s a _Batsignal_.” Dean’s eyes were as big as saucers. “There’re probably batarangs. Can I get one? Dude, maybe I can meet _Wonder Woman_.”

Dick frowned at the way Sam looked at Dean, a soft, doe eyed look that seemed out of place on the large man. Maybe they were more than partners, then. Ooh, or maybe it’s a one-sided pining. Relationship drama was always fun.

“Shut up, man,” Sam said, “You sound like Becky.”

“Ow, Sam. That hurt.”

Sam ignored him in favor of continuing research, and after a few minutes Dean got up and wandered the library, pulling out books he thought were interesting to place in front of his partner so he could read and later summarize it for Dean. Eventually, Dean made his way back to Sam, patting his partner on the shoulder and leaving for a bar. Nightwing waited for a few minutes, pulling up a separate screen to track Dean’s movements, before getting up to follow him.

It took Dick all of five minutes to realize Dean wasn’t going to a bar like he told Sam, and it took another one for him to realize Sam was following at a block’s distance. A part of him thought to abort and turn down a separate block, but another knew that would give away the fact that he knew Sam was there.

Regardless, Dean stopped walking before Dick could decide, turning around and staring him down as he approached on the _oddly_ empty street. Sam picked up the pace and Dick had to resist the urge to start running as the back of his neck prickled with fear—it was almost like getting the chills when he was walking up the stairs in the middle of the night, but so much more intense.

They were partners, they knew how to fight, that much was obvious, but to follow him for this long without him noticing?

He underestimated them. He _severely_ underestimated them.

Within a foot of Dean they met eyes, and Dick found himself grabbed by the front of his shirt and pulled into an alley, the rough brick wall scratching his back through his shirt. Dick’s hands held onto Dean’s wrists, tightening as he felt the cold barrel of a gun sneak against the bare skin right above his waistband.

“Let me make this simple,” Dean said. Sam reached the mouth of the alley, gun in hand, watching his partner with an impassive face. “You tell us who you are and why you’ve been following us around all day, and this,” the cold metal pressed harder, “never gets used. Capicé?”

Dick gave a lopsided smile, forcing a heavier Gotham accent into his voice as he replied, “Totally, mister.” They’ve given no indication that they know he’s Nightwing, so might as well play along. “Name’s William Draper. Was just listenin’ a bit ‘n heard you needa get in touch with a certain bird in blue.”

Sam’s jaw gave a compulsive clench, eyebrows raising. “And if we do?”

“You could see ’im tonight.”

“Oh, really?”

Dick nodded his head, but didn’t elaborate, only giving a pointed look at where Dean’s hand was stretching his shirt.

Dean shook him hard, making Dick wince as the back of his head scraped against the bricks. “I think you forgot,” he growled. The gun was painfully digging into his hip. “You don’t make the fucking rules here.”

Dick glared. He could disarm him, but Sam’s eyes were still there, and he got the impression they’d let him go if he gave them what they wanted. Plus, this was a good disguise. He _liked_ being William, he didn’t want to give it up so easily. “Lilac Hotel. Eight O’clock.”

The hands on his shirt didn’t let go, and for a second Dick was scared he’d misread them again before Sam cleared his throat and Dean was backing off, sliding next to his partner. Dick made a point of fixing his rumpled clothing, whispering, _“Asshole_ ,” loudly enough that Sam gave a barely concealed smile and Dean gave a glare.

“Nightwing sent you?” Sam asked.

Dick shrugged, his arms flopping slightly. “Could say that, yeah. Now, if you don’ mind, I’m a make my way out of here.” He walked forward and in between them, out of the alley before making his way down a random street, praying they don’t follow him. It was a walk to his bike, but it wasn’t worse than patrol.

Back in the alley, Sam scoffed. “You believe him?”

Dean wasn’t sure. “Do we have another choice?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! They meet Jason!
> 
> Okay, i do want to write longer chapters, but my brain is having a hard time writing this fic so I've lowered my word count goal to 1000. so the chapters are shorter, but its' easier to write so I'll hopefully start getting a mood for this fic

They both found themselves in the lobby of a hotel, awkwardly standing in the middle of pressed suits and jeweled upperclassmen who eyed them with suspicion. They could see the secretary watching them like a hawk, hand on the phone.

“Are we sure we have the right place, Dean?” Sam leaned in to mutter in his brother’s ear. They almost looked dirty compared to the rest of the place.

“Like hell if I know.” Dean glanced at the digital clock hung above the elevators, confirming that there were only a few precious minutes left until they were supposed to meet. What were they supposed to do? Ask for Nightwing? Maybe Mr. Draper? Should they just wait? If they have the wrong place, there’s no way they’d make it to the right place by now.

Only a few seconds after the clock displayed eight, a boy—in his early twenties, maybe, entered through the main entrance of the building, “Sam, Dean!” calling from his lips as if they were old friends. Dean had the itch to push the stranger away when he threw an arm around Dean and Sam’s shoulders. “Let’s head on upstairs, no point in keeping everyone waiting.”

He wasn’t dressed like the rest of the customers at the hotel, the worn leather jacket on his shoulders probably the most expensive item of clothing on him. Dean dully noted that his light eyelashes didn’t match the black hair or dark eyebrows—probably dyed, then. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“A friend of a pretty boy in tight spandex.” He led them to an elevator down a sketchy hallway a little farther from the grand entrance, bringing out a key to call it down. Once they were inside, he dropped his arms and turned to face them. “Called me pretty last minute, told me you guys were meeting. So, who’s who?”

“I’m Sam,” Sam said, hands that were stuffed in his pocket coming as an offering to the boy. “This is Dean. You’re, uh, the Red Hood, right?”

“Wait—the Red Hood?” Dean’s face radiated wonder. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. “Like,  _ the _ Red Hood—Jason Todd, second robin to the Batman, even death couldn’t slow him down?”

Jason’s demeanor changed drastically, brows furrowing and expression almost feral as he grabbed Dean and pushed him out of the elevator. Dean’s back hit a table, a gun pressed against the bottom of his chin. Dean lifted his hand automatically in a gesture of peace, listening to Sam’s  _ “woah, woah, hey!” _ as he tried to pull Jason off his brother.

Jason slammed Sam in the face with his elbow, not even bothering to watch him go down. “How the  _ hell _ do you know that?!”

Something in Dean’s gut twisted as he watched his brother try to reorient himself, and he grabbed Jason’s hand, twisting it until the boy was forced to let go of his weapon. Dean could feel his air cut off as Jason managed to wrap an arm around his neck, but he forced his body to collapse, bringing the Red Hood with him.

It didn’t dislodge him, and at that point Jason’s arm was only getting tighter, Dean’s vision blurring. He could feel the world getting just a little bit dizzy, Jason pinning Dean with his own body—and  _ damn  _ he weighs a lot. Even though the world was going fuzzy and his hearing was starting to ring, he registered a  _ click _ of a gun safety being undone.

“Let go.” That was Sammy’s voice. Dear God, he loves Sammy  _ so much _ right now he’d buy him all the rabbit food he wants.

Jason tensed, and then he let go, rolling off Dean who gasped for air. Jason’s jaw flexed. He opened his mouth to say something, but--

“Hey,” Dean looked up to the new voice—Nightwing, crouching on the floor of an open window with wet hair from the rain outside, escrima in hand. Dean’s brain was still a little bit disoriented, strangely getting distracted by the fact that the water on Nightwing’s suit only brought out the better of him, and people were not lying when they said he had the best asset.

Nightwing looked between the three males, uncertainty showing in the slight dip of his brow. “What’s going on?”

“Heya, Dickie Bird, nice of you to show up,” Jason smiled at Nightwing in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A little help every once in a while would be nice, you know?”

“Hood,” Nightwing said. “Let go of the gun and tell me what happened.”

Dean’s eyes snapped back to the masked vigilante to find his hand on a thigh holster Dean hadn’t noticed before. He’d been slowly pulling it out throughout the short chat.

“Wow,” Jason snarled. “I’m the one with a gun pointed at me and you fucking give  _ me _ away?”

Nightwing gave an enduring sigh, turning his attention to Sam. “Please, put the gun away. What happened?”

Sam stared Jason down for a couple more long moments until he was sure the other wouldn’t attack. He put the safety back on, sliding the gun back into its place under his jeans. “I don’t know. We were just talking and he— he flipped.”

“I  _ didn’t _ —!”

“No, no,” Dean blinked a couple times, staggering back to his feet. Effects from the lack of oxygen were almost gone. “No, It was my fault. I messed up.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Dean—”

“No, Sammy. I,” Dean sighed. “I forgot identities are, like, a  _ thing _ . We’re from an alternate dimension. At least, that’s the working theory here. You guys are just characters from a comic book where we’re from, so I know your names and other shit. Red over there was just reacting to a name drop.”

Jason got back up as Nightwing replied, “Alternate dimension? That’s what you meant when you said you landed here, back at the library. The energy was from a dimension hop.”

“Yeah, we—” Sam stopped for a second, cocking his head to the side like a tick. “Back at the library?”

“William,” Nightwing lied. “He told me what you were talking about.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Well, we need a way to get back to our world, and you seemed like our best bet. Your world’s not exactly like the comics we know, but from what I can tell, the major players are still the good guys. That includes you, Nightwing.”

“Great,” Jason stalked up to Nightwing, giving him a harsh shove. “Wow, okay. So, who the hell are they? Nightwing, I though you knew them!”

Nightwing shrugged. “We met! Once. Kind of.”

“ _ Once. _ Oh my fucking God.”

“Look, It’s okay,” Sam raised his hand to stop the fighting, taking a step back toward the elevator. “We can… just… start over, right? I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean. We’re probably from another universe. We hunt monsters. Your turn.”

Jason glared at them, and for a second Dean could’ve sworn his green eyes seemed just a bit too bright, but the look turned into disbelief when Nightwing played along with Sam’s game, the glow dimming out before Dean had the chance to decide if it was unnatural or just a trick of the light.

“Brothers?” Nightwing looked puzzled for a second. “Oh. Um, I’m Nightwing. This is Red Hood, and we’re vigilantes. We’d like to help you get home, so we’d appreciate it if you told us the last thing you remember before the energy surge.”

There was a slight lull where Dean turned to glance at his brother. “Well,” Dean said, cracking a small smile. Almost choked or not, these guys used to be Robin. “Before we start, can I just say it is an actual honor to meet you? Both of you? I used to read about you guys all the time—”

Sam slapped his arm. “Dean, now is  _ not _ the time.” He turned back to the vigilantes. “Like I said before, we hunt monsters. We found a possible case of a murderous witch in New Jersey…” He recounted the story of how they had been chased, the symbol and the light.

“Magic?” Nightwing looked unsurprised. “Okay, that should be simple enough. I’ll call Zatanna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments please!

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if i have any mistakes!
> 
> And cooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmentssssssssss <3


End file.
